you can't hide from the stars
by Searching.For.Enadi
Summary: Certain actions can be considered dangerous in the aftermath of Voldemort's supposed defeat. Luckily, opening a tailor shop is not one of them. (SI!OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Title: you can't hide from the stars**

 **AKA, that one OC fic no one asked for**

 **(notes in the bottom)**

* * *

 **I.**

Much to no one's surprise, graduation doesn't seem to do much for the years of procrastination she's cultivated as a student.

 _I should've done this yesterday,_ she thinks glumly, hauling several cans of paint out to the front. One pail, holding an atrocious color of putrid orange, spills onto the cobblestone road, the thick liquid seeping through the well-trodden path.

She glares at the tipped over can in betrayal.

"I didn't need you anyways," she mutters dismissively, fumbling for her wand before vanishing the paint into another existential realm. Unfortunately, not everything disappears, and a charming, obtrusive shade of salmon is left on the street. That had been one of Professor Flitwick's first warnings, as he often reminded his students: items not of solid matter could not be entirely vanished, unless the caster strengthened the charm accordingly.

After a hard look, Diana decides to leave it, finding it a fantastic addition to the rather gloomy alley.

Once all the equipment is secure, she rolls out a sturdy length of thick parchment paper onto the ground, and steadies her wand.

Eyes closing, she inhales deeply, the smell of chemical paint flaring by. There is a hint of mildew coming from the flower shop across the street, and the back of her neck warms from the dawning sun's rays. Her exhaustion of the early morning dissolves away as magic, eager and present, rushes past her fingertips when she whispers, " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Multiple objects rise to the air.

(She doesn't need to say the spell outloud, actually. She hasn't needed to in years. But still, there's something thrilling and wonderfully dramatic about verbal spells).

This had been her fifth year project, she remembers faintly, guiding several brushes to different paint cans. The brushes float to the levitating parchment paper, painting in large strokes and adorning the letters with a steady, black border.

( _How many practical uses can there be for a single spell?_ She had asked, when, in a fit of rare curiosity, she attempted to juggle several hard-boiled eggs with her wand.

In the end, she had wasted four perfectly edible eggs, and started a terrible precedent at meal times for the rest of her Hogwarts career).

"There," she hums in satisfaction. She guides the brushes into a can full of water, flicking her wrist upwards to cancel the charm. Her wand outlines a circle before cutting a line horizontally through.

" _Lenis,_ " a gentle breeze floats through, drying the paint until she deems it ready.

"See? I always pull through in the end," she hums confidently, to no one but herself, as she takes in the newly decorated banner resting comfortably above the store's only window.

 _Inglewood's Consulting Fabrics: The Grand Opening!,_ it says, appropriately vague, in a deep, dashing green. In smaller, plain black underneath, the banner also adds, _Need a gift? A souvenir? Ask no more, Inglewood is here!_

In even smaller, black paint: _Please see teller inside for more details._

 _The banner will be temporary, of course_ , she decides, sadly aware that this isn't her best. Still, it certainly _looks_ professional -

"Oh my god, are you serious," she brings stained hands to her face and wails, "It's _crooked!_ "

* * *

 **-o-o-o-o-o-**

* * *

She leaves it on, the banner with crooked words and all, to hang despondently in front of her store.

 _Sometimes, you just have to work with the resources you're given,_ she tells herself. Besides, it's already past her opening hours - it wouldn't do to leave her customers waiting.

Feeling far more generous than before, she whisks all of her materials back into the store and clears up the residue paint outside with a quick Scouring charm.

Dumping everything in the storage room at the back, she steps out into the store, hands resting on her hips.

"Now, this isn't too bad," she surmises out loud, to the plain decor around the single, empty room. The very front expands to display her limited wares as polished dark wood lines the floor.

"Charming, just like me," she jokes, tugging impatiently at her selection of scrunchies. The lack of cute accessories in Magical Britain is a travesty, and Diana is determined to change that.

Time passes at a slow pace, the sounds of her footsteps filling the space between the ticks of the clock resting on her countertop.

She sticks her head out of the front door for the fourth time in the hour. A deep sigh escapes when the dreary street is void of anything except for the random straggler a distance away. Looking down, she lets out a huff of at the completely clean road.

She enters her little store once again and leans against the countertop, her fingers drumming against the scratched surface. Her eyes drift slowly down, the patterns of the wood near hypnotic, and from one breath to the next, the front door suddenly bursts open with an obnoxious ring.

"What," she rubs the sleep away from her lashes and blinks once, before rubbing them again. "P-Professor?"

"Well now, this is a sight to see," her former teacher remarks as she scrambles from her stool to greet him. "I hope you're not sleeping on the job, Miss Inglewood."

"Oh, certainly not, sir!" she says, lying through her teeth. With a wave of her wand, she brings out a tea set and hides a yawn behind her hand. "It's just been a tad slow."

Professor Flitwick chuckles and her lips curl into a tiny smile at the sound. As if it had been done multiple times before, they gravitate to the lounge next to the window of the shop.

"I hope it wasn't presumptuous of me to stop by," the teacher begins as he settles into a wooden, brown chair. Though the furniture dwarfs him, his posture is near impeccable. Bright, clever eyes shine with a hint of humor. "I simply couldn't stop myself from my curiosity."

A laugh escapes her lips as she pours a steaming cup of tea. "I wouldn't dream of stopping you from visiting, professor. You know you're always welcome here."

She gestures to the bowl of sugar cubes sitting at low table between them.

"Tea?" she offers.

"Two please, that would be wonderful," Flitwick hums with good cheer. He turns his gaze around her rather humble store. "You've done fantastically here, my dear. I'm absolutely positive you'll end up in great success."

"Well, I certainly hope so," Diana passes a cup to the professor, and plops several sugar cubes into her own tea. "It's a little terrifying, but I have some hope. And what about you, sir? How has the summer been treating you?"

Flitwick takes a tentative sip of his tea, a sound of approval escaping before he begins, "It's been dreadfully boring, I must say. You would think a nice break from these students would be appreciated, but the castle, it's now far too empty!"

"Professor, please, graduation was only a few weeks ago!" she shakes her head in amusement as he lets out a peal of laughter. "I'm sure you can find some other forms of entertainment."

The conversation continues in that frame for another hour or so. By then, the tea pot has been drained, leaving her to feel slightly bloated.

"I suppose I've taken enough of your time," Flitwick hops off of his chair, landing gently on solid feet. Diana, on the other hand, rises wobbly, a hand to her poor stomach.

"Thank you for visiting, sir," she smiles as he surveys her rather limited wares. "I'm, um, still working on adding more items, of course."

"That shouldn't be a problem," the teacher answers, lingering near her collection of scrunchies. "You've always done splendidly in your classes."

"Oh, thank you, for that," she murmurs, slightly taken aback.

"Nothing to it, Miss Inglewood," Flitwick picks up a savvy, dark velvet scrunchie. "Now, how much for this one?"

 _Bloody hell,_ Diana thinks as she struggles to keep a neutral face. _Is he serious?_

"Please, professor, you can keep it, free of charge," she says as she searches for her words. "But, um, wouldn't you want something else? Like, er, a hat? Or perhaps something more… "

"Nonsense!" the teacher interrupts with a bright squeak. "This is perfect for the upcoming months! But I certainly wouldn't want to simply take it from you. How much is it?"

"If you really want it, then you should definitely keep it, sir," she says, ushering him shamelessly out the door. "Think of it as payment for all these years, for all that you've done for me!"

Outside of the store, where the sun has settled firmly to the west, she adds on, "Besides, the Ministry has helped to fund a lot of this, professor. And that wouldn't have been possible without you."

Flitwick turns to face her, the height difference barely noticeable in comparison to the warmth in his eyes.

"You've really pulled through, haven't you, my dear?" he says, and she flushes at the words. He ties his hair with the newly acquired hair accessory in a flourish. "Even though you weren't one of my own, remember that you'll always have a place as my cherished student."

He gives a cheerful wink and a moment later, disappears with a resounding _crack!_

"Oh, bugger," she says to the empty road in front of her. WIth a laugh, she wipes a hand across her eyes. "What a sentimental man."

Entering her store once more, she lets out a strangled noise at the coins lying innocently next to her register.

" _How._ " she motions to the money in front of her incredulously. " _How does he keep on doing this?_ "

* * *

 **-o-o-o-o-o-**

* * *

With a quiet sigh, she climbs up to her apartment on the second floor, throwing off her flats as soon as she enters. A snap of her fingers turns the lock on the door behind her.

"I got nothing done, but I'm still tired," she mutters, opening her antique fridge and pulling out a pitcher of water. Pouring out a cup, she drinks eagerly, and sets the empty cup onto a table full of documents.

"Let's see here…" her hands rifle through the mail piling up from a week previous. "Bills, letter from the Ministry, ads, oh, a letter from Abby. From… last week?"

She winces at the date marked at the top of the envelope. "Yes, okay, I'll answer that right away."

With a disappointing dinner of leftovers, Diana makes a quick note to grab more groceries, and heads off to her bedroom. The disarray within the tiny room leaves her flinching, and she runs a hand wearily through her dark hair. She walks past the bulletin board full of rune charts and formal proposals, heading straight for the calendar pinned above her dresser.

Bold red circles June 5th, with " _Opening day!"_ written in handwriting that isn't hers.

Her lips quirk upwards as she crosses out the day with a pen. Eyes turning to the cramped window to her left, she watches the sky dye pink, the growing lights of Diagon Alley becoming more apparent a distance away.

"Not a bad day," she finally concludes, something wistful passing momentarily by. But the feelings are shaken off easily enough and she closes the window blinds with a wave of her hand.

She collapses onto her rather dingy bed, recounting the day and decides _yes, today was a good day._

(The night ends with a distant lullaby, from a memory far away, perhaps from a woman long ago. It's a beautiful melody, and Diana's grateful she can still remember it, even a lifetime later).

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 **So! First of at least a dozen stories I have just laying around, left to collect dust. I'll be posting more hopefully, trying to get used to the idea of _new_ fics rather than just updating old ones.**

 **This is that one fic no one's really looking for - an SI!OC surrounded by even more OCs - who'd want that?**

 **Well I did. I wanted it. So I wrote it LOL**

 **If you're hoping for the instant gratification of interacting with canon characters, I will tell you now you are probably in the worst place possible. I have been in the mood for gradual burn! stories and that is what you'll probably be getting.**

 **on the story itself:**

 **\- "you can't hide from the stars" will have mostly short chapters, as it was intended for NaNoWriMo, except I never ended up writing it in November LOL**

 **\- again, since I'm starting where our OC starts off as an adult, I have completely skipped over the Hogwarts years. There will be flashbacks to those times, but if you're hoping for a story centering around that, I am very sorry, you are probably in the wrong place.**

 **For anyone left over and still interested, I hope you all enjoy travelling young Diana's path as much as I have enjoyed writing it!**

 **\- SE**


	2. Chapter 2

**II:**

The next few days trudge on by at an astronomically slow rate. Diana, from sheer force of having nothing else to do, considers ending her banner's short lived career.

At this point, it serves more as decoration than anything else; if she's going to live out the rest of her life as a mediocre shop owner, she certainly can do it without embarrassing herself even further.

But tragically, when she reaches for the parchment, Diana comes to the sudden realization that sometimes, time can heal even the worst of wounds. What had once been an artistic disaster, in mere days, has now somehow become elusively appealing.

(Is it the deep emerald green paint? Or the charming calligraphy she's slaved years on to achieve? Or perhaps, is it the crooked placement of the words themselves, reflecting her own disintegrating hope that she'll have a customer by the end of the week?).

Hands frozen over the banner, Diana lowers her arms and releases a defeated sigh. She grudgingly returns to the store and plops on a stool behind the counter.

When it nears the late afternoon, she resignedly prepares to close shop once again, bereft of a single customer.

 _If this continues, heads will roll, with my name first on the list_ _,_ she thinks with sinking dread. Absentmindedly, her left hand outlines a headband in a notebook, with one side of the accessory significantly wider than the other.

"Why is it I can never get these lines straight?" she frowns sourly, fingers twitching for the heavily-abused eraser sitting nearby. Her scowl deepens as she sketches a cute bow on top, so focused she nearly misses the bright ring of a bell.

"Oh!" Her head shoots up, hands flying when she leaps from her stool, nearly knocking over her entire counter. _Could it be? H_ _er very first customer?_ "Hello! Can I help you with anything?"

There is a man at the entrance, shuffling uneasily near the doorway. His frazzled eyes move quickly from side to side, right hand erratically tapping the side of ragged pants.

( _Muggle clothing,_ she notes with envy. Oh, the things she would give to wear pants on the job…).

"Um, hello," he dips his head before removing his loose-fitting cap. "I, er, saw your sign outside. And I needed something rather last minute…"

"I'll see what I can do to help, sir!" Diana's legs nearly vibrate with nervous energy. She _knew_ that banner would be useful. Grabbing a sketchbook and several utensils, she guides the man to the lounge. "Please, have a seat!"

"Ah, thank you," the man sits at the very edge of his seat, hands wrapped carefully around his knees. With a hopefully calming smile, Diana slowly waves her wand, bringing her tea set to the table.

"Now, please, did you need anything in particular?" A heating charm brings the water to a boil as the man searches through her wares.

"Well, I was hoping to get something more personal," he answers hesitantly, glancing around for another moment before slumping forward. "I didn't have the time nor the, ah, funds to go to somewhere in Diagon…"

"That's completely understandable," she nods in agreement as her pot pours out two cups of tea. One is gently pushed forward to the man. "Would you like some?"

The man looks down at the cup - so suspiciously so, that Diana is compelled to add, "It's just tea, sir."

Seemingly abashed, the man accepts the drink, adding one sugar cube and a little milk in as well.

"I'm sure we can find something that will work for you," she reassures, taking a sip of her own tea. "Is it a gift for someone?"

"Well, yes," the man says, taking a tentative sip before glancing down at his cup in surprise. He abruptly clears his throat. "It's for a birthday. My daughter's, in fact."

"Oh, your daughter!" Diana says, instantly pleased at the prospect. "Do you have something in mind?"

"I was hoping for something that covers her head, for the incoming heat," the man confesses, slowly turning his tea cup in circles. "But it doesn't look like you have any of those…"

"You don't need to worry about that, sir," Diana takes a large gulp of her tea and flips to a new page in her sketchbook. "A hat would be perfect for the summer, perhaps a sun hat?"

She mutters a few more things under her breath, and a smile nearly breaks out when she sees the man take another sip of his tea. With a pencil, she sketches a vague outline of a little sun hat with a wide rim.

"Could you tell me a little more about her, perhaps, sir?" she asks, hopefully in a nice, unobtrusive way. "This is only for consulting purposes, I assure you."

"I suppose that is understandable," the man answers haltingly, and takes another sip of his drink. "My daughter is turning seven today. She has blonde hair, like her mother, and I believe her favorite color is blue…"

A image begins to form underneath her hands, but at the man's wavering voice, she pauses to glance back up.

The man's hazel eyes turn downwards, the lines on his face becoming more pronounced. "Forgive me, young miss. There's not much I can give you beyond that."

A hum travels from her throat as she lowers her sketchbook onto the table.

"There's no reason to apologize, sir," she begins slowly, hands clasped in her lap. In the back of her mind, a voice shrieks _DANGER, DANGER, DON'T FUCK THIS UP, DON'T FUCK THIS UP_.

"I can tell that you care very much for her," Diana adds quietly, even as the voice continues to scream. "You've come all the way here to get her gift, with a specific idea in your mind. That, more than anything, tells me of how much you love her."

The man takes another sip of his tea. With a wry smile, he admits, "It certainly doesn't seem so at the moment. It's already difficult enough trying to make ends meet, but I've been terrible with everything else - I missed her birthday last year and it broke her heart."

Very casually, Diana brings her drink to her lips.

"It makes me wonder if I've made a mistake," the man rubs the back of his neck and rests his forearms on his legs. At a moderate pace, Diana mirrors the same position. "I'm struggling to support our family. I'm forgetting things left and right - I, I just wonder if I've made a mistake with all of this. Being here, being, being a father."

Silence fills the shop. As if realizing what he has just said, the man blinks and gives a hard look at the near empty cup in his hands.

"It's really just tea," Diana says with a strange smile on her lips. She stops briefly before continuing. "And if I may be frank with you, sir - to me, the love you have for your family makes it clear that you don't truly believe it's a mistake."

She picks up her sketchbook and writes down a few more notes, and adds, "Times may be hard, but your family is there for _you_. Despite your heavy feelings on this matter, you're trying so hard. It would be impossible for them to not notice."

In the next quiet moments, Diana presents her drawing to the man. "And how does this look to you?"

"That," the man stumbles, clearly still reeling from some sort of revelation. "That works."

"I'm glad you think so, sir," she beams, standing as she pulls out her wand.

Giving it a wave, she summons several materials, including a spool of braided straw. The straw itself is one of her favorites, when made from the fiber of knotgrass and several other magical plants, the material becomes incredibly malleable to magic of all sorts.

"What, what are you doing?" the man follows her to his feet, ducking away from the items flying by. The materials settle down gently after the tea set has been cleared off.

Diana raises her wand and near immediately, her magic, like a warm summer day, rushes through her.

"Just a few minutes please," she tells the man, eyes creasing at the confusion on his face. "This is my favorite part."

"Wait, you're going to make it here? _Now?_ "

Pushing the man's rising voice away from her thoughts, she unravels the spool of straw with a twirl of her wand. With a soft murmur, the straw begins to slowly intertwine with other strands, tightening to take shape. Eyes nearly closed from the image in her mind, Diana hums a section of a Beethoven symphony.

The warmth of her magic flares with heat as she considers the love of a father, the desperate, humble, wishful love of a father. The magic grabs the thoughts, the endless love, the fondness, the hope for blue skies, and several sections of the straw hat begin to form.

Her arm moves in tangent with the dancing materials, scissors snipping off loose ends, magic attaching itself between the separate parts. To keep it all together, she carves a symbol at the top and whispers a call:

" _Joy of all, your heart be pure_

 _Let no sorrow remain at the hearth_

 _Leave your troubles behind_

 _And remember the sun."_

She opens her eyes and takes a glance at the frozen man, keeping her magic in place, steady and flowing.

"Can you give me her name, sir?" she asks, quietly, and the sound shakes him out of his stupor.

"It's, it's Emily," he says just as softly, still fixated at the sight in front of him. "But we call her Emma."

"Emma," Diana tastes the name on her tongue, and laughs. "What a lovely name."

The newly formed hat flips over, and gold thread stitches through the straw inside, printing out in loose cursive, _For Emma._ A string of baby blue ribbon wraps around the base of the hat, resting gracefully with a bow on the side. A tiny sunflower, cut from the vase on her countertop, inserts itself next to the bow.

Inhaling deeply, Diana releases a heavy breath and with it, the magic held within the air.

Immediately, the materials surrounding her drop none-too-gently onto the table. The straw hat, on the other hand, lands gently in her hands.

"Wh-What was that?" the man stutters, breaking the eerily kept silence. "What was that _magic?_ "

"Oh, well, it's quite experimental at the moment," Diana says bashfully, before remembering that she's trying to sell a business, and tacks on quickly, "But it's completely safe! Tested by the Ministry and everything."

"I see," the man says slowly, and when it looks like he's ready to bolt, Diana swiftly gives him the hat.

"At least try it on, sir," she gives an imploring smile. "It's charmed to resize for little Emma, of course."

Still appearing rather suspicious, the man places the hat gently on his head, the sight only slightly ridiculous.

"I," the man starts before stopping. He removes the hat and waves his own wand over it.

"No other charms, or hidden curses," he mutters, going through some rather impressive diagnostic spells. A single rune flares to view underneath the top of the hat. " _Wunjo?_ That's not harmful either…"

Finally, the man raises wide eyes at her. "What _is_ this?"

"Like I said, it's quite experimental," Diana says, unsurprised at the amount of suspicion directed towards the item.

A flick of her wand brings over the Ministry stamped proposal from her drawers. She presents it to the man. "Studies don't deny the impact _intent_ has on magic. I'm simply exploring the effect it has when mixing charms and runes into fabric. It's not too far off from what what many are already doing."

The man accepts the document blankly, barely glancing over the heavy stack of papers until the words catch up to his ears.

"Well, the idea is very unfamiliar to me, but I think I can understand where it comes from," he says after a while. He eyes the hat in his hands while a tiny smile forms. "I apologize for the suspicion, miss. I would love to purchase it, if that's possible. Although the cost…"

"That's lovely to hear, sir!" Diana beams, rushing to the counter where her register stands. "That'll be nine sickles and three knuts."

"What? That's far too little," the man says in protest. "Just considering the amount of magic you must have put in here - "

"Nine sickles and three knuts," she interrupts serenely. "Take it or leave it, sir."

A momentary pause before the man lets out a deep sigh. Pushing over the appropriate amount, he gives a disbelieving smile. "This wasn't what I entirely expected walking in here, but I'm glad I did, nevertheless. Thank you for this, miss."

At those words, Diana smiles, putting the money safely away and shakes the man's hand heartily.

"No, thank _you_ for allowing me to do this, sir," she walks him to the front door, and nods appreciatively. "Please tell little Emma I said happy birthday!"

"I will," the man chuckles, the motion easing the tension along his features. He puts on his cap and tips it off to her. "I'm sure your own father is proud of how far you've come. Have a good evening, miss."

"Good evening, sir!" Diana calls with a wave. In her mind, she decides to let that sudden topic remain buried for now. There's no father in her life at the moment, and there certainly never had been. Perhaps, in that previous life, but well. That's another world away.

She lets her hand fall as soon as he apparates away. When she enters the shop again, she collapses onto a nearby couch from sheer nerves.

"A sale. An actual sale," she mumbles face first into a pillow. "I'm going to sleep for a whole week now."

It's a tempting thought, but no, she's an adult now with a full time job. An adult, with a full time job, who _still_ hasn't picked up any groceries.

"Fuck," she then says, her words muffled and mangled through the cushion. "Is it going to be cereal again tonight?"

As if the planets had spoken, Diana did, indeed, have cereal again that night.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 **where are we going this? you don't know, _i_ don't know, we are all collectively in a perpetual state of confusion. **

**till next time!**

 **\- SE**


	3. Chapter 3

**III:**

 _The stars are blinding tonight. Without a cloud in sight, the full moon seems entirely too large to fit behind the Great Hall's ceiling._

 _The light from countless candles flicker in and out to a breeze that isn't there, leaving shadows to dance across the room, reflected against polished silverware. Faceless people surround her and she's trying hard to hide her trembles because she's nervous, of course. Nervous because she's an impostor, hiding behind the face of a little girl, behind the face of a name._

" _Inglewood, Diana!" Mcgonagall calls out with a severe frown on her face. Swallowing one more breath, she walks forward, counting her steps to the beat of soundless drums. One, two, one, two, one, two._

 _She sits down on the stool and briefly, she fears she is sitting too high - fears she might fall -_

" _Oh, how interesting," a voice cuts her short. "This may be a first for me - what a fascinating case you are, Miss Inglewood. Or, would you prefer - "_

" _That's fine. Inglewood is fine," she interrupts hastily. "I hope that isn't a problem?"_

" _Well, not a problem at all, that's for certain," the hat answers smoothly. There's a hint of hidden depths behind those words, of ancient years that go far beyond what she has hidden herself. "I'm not one to follow every given rule. But moving on, I must say, minds like you are quite tricky. Now, where to put you?"_

" _Somewhere nice, maybe?" she asks. "I don't want any trouble."_

" _Oh, I don't think that's necessarily the case!" a resounding chuckle rings through her head. "Now let's see here…_

" _You can certainly be loyal when you choose to be, but that's not where your strengths entirely lie. Oh no, Miss Inglewood, you have a thirst for many things. A deep, hidden thirst for dreams you cannot comprehend, only belied by how you plan on getting it. What a silver, silver tongue you have! Hmmm, I see. Well then. I suppose it better be - "_

 _BRRRRRRINGGGGG -_

Like every other day, her arm flings outward to catch the alarm clock mid-ring, silencing the ancient device. And like every other day, Diana stares at the ceiling above and contemplates if staying for another five minutes would be pushing it.

But if she doesn't get up now she never really will, and so with a groan, she rises to the sound of her creaking mattress. Getting ready is a chore but it's a movement well-rehearsed at this point, and in a half an hour, she's all set to go.

 _Sundays,_ she yawns as her finger directs the laces of her shoes. _It's always Sundays._

Rubbing her eyes, she hoists on a backpack (supplied with an Undetectable Extension Charm, Ministry certified!) and collects her meager funds. The pile of paper stacked perilously on top her table almost makes her reconsider doing errands today. But no, those weekly reports can wait; she'll do them later tonight.

Staring into the small mirror hanging next to her front door, she decides the image is good enough and heads off, appreciating that almost two decades in this body has removed all discomfort when it comes to those cold, gray eyes.

 _I need eggs,_ she thinks, not wanting to have a repeat of last night's cereal for a very long time. Locking the shop with key and a muttered " _Colloportus,_ " she repeats her list: _eggs, milk, bread and bacon._

Walking at a sedate pace through the little alley, Diana considers the reality that she really, honestly, should get some vegetables.

 _Spinach, then,_ she allows, turning a corner and passing quickly through Diagon Alley, slipping around the crowds of people. _And zucchini._

She ducks through several advertisement banners and heads south, entering a rather cramped street before making a sharp right. Stepping past a wooden stall, she finds herself immediately in the midst of an alleyway flooded with color.

Bright red and dull gold line the walls of stores and billows of smoke swamp the air. The scent of medicinal herbs and dried fruit is faint, nearly overwhelmed by the shouts of bargaining passerby. Magic, heavy and warm, lingers on her skin.

A cautious eye on the swarms of people stomping by, she treads along the cobblestone road, weaving through street vendors and performers. She drops a sickle for an elderly man playing on an old erhu and smiles at his returning nod.

Approaching a modest building, she glances at its gleaming words, "Red Lotus," written in English next to several other characters. Her eyes travel down to the eggplant stand underneath and immediately, her nose wrinkles. Without another thought, she walks through the aging open doors and calls out, "Āyí! Are you there?"

Grabbing one of the baskets nearby, Diana decides to start her shopping anyways, even if the store seems devoid of any life. She deftly ignores the cheap charms displayed at the front (but almost double takes at the jar full of vivid crimson shell pieces, speckled with gold), and heads straight to the produce section.

She grabs what she needs (minus the bacon) and picks up more that catch her eye (soy sauce, tofu, and onions! Another vegetable!). Hauling her groceries over to the register, Diana can't help but beam at the older woman sitting languishly at the counter.

"Āyí! I knew you would be here," she laughs when the woman clicks her tongue, levitating the basket to the high table.

"Hmm, you haven't been around these days," the woman, Yue, remarks considerably. She makes a vague motion with her hand and immediately, Diana presents her backpack.

"I've been a bit busy," Diana says sheepishly as the other woman places her groceries into little bags. "You know, with a new store and everything."

Yue mutters something briefly in Mandarin and Diana's smile widens even further.

She had stumbled upon this alley (and consequently, the store) years ago, curious to find any magical equivalents to her memories from another life. It's not entirely the same, especially considering the predominant language here, but they have soy sauce, so that's all that really matters, she supposes.

"Business doesn't mean you stop eating," the woman warns severely, her thick accent transforming the words to something more stern. "Look at you! Not eating, yet you still gained weight."

In automatic response, Diana wraps defensive arms against her waist.

"I'm working on it, āyí," she says helplessly in protest.

Her thoughts travel to the store's entrance and she adds slyly, "Besides, that's better than selling fake Fireball egg shells, right?"

"Careful!" Yue hisses, narrowed eyes cautiously circling the empty aisles. A nearby, tiny folded fan smacks Diana's hand. "Customers might hear!"

Huffing at Diana's responding laughter, the vendor places a brief stasis charm on them before putting them in the backpack.

"Don't forget to come back, okay?" Yue says, casually adding in some snacks on the sly as Diana pays. "And bring that Chinese girl with you next time. Very pretty. I like her much more."

With a warm smile, Diana agrees, thanking the older woman and leaving with a bow. She departs into the crowd, the hordes of people thickening with the rising sun. Still, it hasn't reached midday just yet, and so she deigns it good enough to go back the way she came.

By the time she steps into Diagon Alley, summer's hold on Magical Britain is clear when warm winds blow past the strands of her hair. She steps along the side of the alley, brushing by a family restaurant and a local flower stand, entirely set on napping after that exhaustive shopping trip when a distinctive voice calls -

"- ana! _Diana!_ Oh my god, are you bloody serious - DIANA INGLEWOOD!"

"Oh no," the now identified Diana says, a touch remorseful. "My nap…"

With a sigh, she turns, immediately staring at a slightly lower angle. Her patience is rewarded when a pale, honey-blonde girl emerges from the crowd.

"I can't believe you! Making me wait over a week for your letter!" the girl seethes, stomping a high-heeled boot onto the pavement with a _click_. The sharply drawn lines around her eyes crystallize the green in them. "And keeping your store address a secret, the _nerve!_ You're lucky I haven't tried a tracking ritual to find you!"

"It's good to see you too, Abby," Diana steers the much shorter girl to a less populous street. A sympathetic smile emerges at the growing upset on the other girl's face. "You know how busy I was this week."

The girl folds her arms with a huff.

"But I _am_ sorry," Diana continues with an appeasing smile. "Come on, let's get some lunch while we're at it."

"Lunch?" Abby blinks, the tune of her mood shifting to something much lighter. "That doesn't sound too bad…"

"Egg sandwiches," Diana says in turn, wrapping an arm briefly around the other girl's shoulder. "With fresh bread and tea. We can catch up while eating. My treat."

"Well, I guess if you really want to," Abby mutters, clearly wavering between two emotional extremes.

Unable to hide a snort, Diana guides her to a familiar cafe nearby. "I insist."

Despite the brief, emotional upset from Abby, it's simply too easy to fall back into their years of friendship. Their initial meeting at Hogwarts is _legendary,_ so to speak, and that's a kind of relationship many struggle to find in their lifetime.

"I've been hanging around Diagon since graduation, just seeing people, y'know?" Abby remarks, running a hand through her perfectly straightened hair. They enter the near empty cafe and head straight to the register, already familiar with the menu of one of their usual haunts.

"Well, I definitely can imagine that," Diana says, eyes roving over the daily pastries offered behind the counter. Abby, immediately catching on, swoons,

"Oh man, those look so good! Let's share one!"

"Carrot cake," Diana says simply, and it becomes a done deal.

"A breakfast sandwich and a slice of carrot cake, please," Abby says to the cashier. The younger boy stammers out a reply and Diana hides a laugh at his flustered state.

(That had been the usual case, especially in the later half of their time at Hogwarts. Though they shared a similar circle of friends, it had always been Abby _and_ Diana, and the former never appeared less than perfect in public. It attracted undue attention, much to the girl's ire, and left Diana thankfully in the shadows.).

"The same sandwich for me, please," Diana says, failing to hide the amusement completely from her voice.

Soon after, the two sit at a high-resting table, with Abby conjuring a mirror to check the state of her lipstick.

"So, let me tell you _everything_ ," the girl says firmly, swiping a finger carefully along the sides of her mouth. "I've been preparing for my exam and _damn,_ are those supplies expensive - "

Taking a slow sip of her cup of milk and tea, Diana lets her lips curl into a smile. _It's nice to hear someone talk again,_ she decides, gratefully accepting the plates of food levitating towards them. _Those weeks holed up at the shop were probably not entirely healthy._

The conversation continues for a near hour, covering topics both frivolous and not. They talk about Abby's upcoming beautician licensing exam (could she stop by and practice? Yes, she could), what their former peers are up to, what their other _friends_ are up to, who is corresponding with who, and -

"Did you hear?" Abby says lowly, conspiratorially, and Diana nearly rolls her eyes in return. She knows how this usually goes. " _Harry Potter_ is coming to Hogwarts this year."

"Well, that hardly matters for us," Diana says wryly, ignoring Abby's growing pout. "We've graduated, we're basically _adults_. Little Harry Potter will have to have his education without us."

"You're right, I guess," the girl says, dutifully ignoring Diana's muttered response of "Of course I'm right."

"Still, to be Head Girl while _Harry Potter_ is at school," Abby clasps her hands dreamily. "Could you imagine?"

"No," Diana says, voice muffled as she swallows the rest of her sandwich. "I wasn't Head Girl. And neither were you."

"A girl can still dream!" Abby fires back with a huff. As if a thought suddenly occurred to her, she hesitates. At the sight, Diana lowers her fork with a raised eyebrow.

"Speaking of new students," Abby starts slowly. Already realizing where this is headed (coming from another world helps with that), Diana raises her fork again to reach for the carrot cake. "I heard the Weaselys have another son going in this year."

"Good for them," Diana says, inhaling a bite of cake. Her tongue rolls over the sweet frosting, relishing how it melts in her mouth. "They have a girl left, I think."

"They should've stopped after the first one," Abby retorts. She stabs her fork viciously into the cake, causing the table to wobble slightly. "The nerve of that family, letting their children run rampant! "

"It was just one child, actually. And it wasn't - "

" _That's not the point!_ " the girl shoves nearly half of the cake into her mouth. Morosely, Diana wonders if she should retaliate by taking the other half. "They're absolutely fucking shameless letting him off like that! And Mcgonagall! She just turned a blind eye, as if he did nothing wrong!"

Far used to Abby's tirades, Diana rests a chin on her palm and says, "That's not unusual. The head of _your_ house turned a blind eye for you several times too, y'know."

"Well," Abby sniffs, deflating rapidly. "Professor Sprout is fantastic like that. Hey, wait a minute, where did the cake go - "

"She is! I think she was a great teacher," Diana says agreeably, plowing through the confusion and sending the finished plates off to the disposal bin. "But you probably shouldn't let it get all in your head; it's not very healthy."

"I know, I know," Abby hops off her chair while Diana simply leans forward to stand up. The girl rests defeated hands on her hips. "It's just, I'm angry because _you_ never will be."

"I was angry then too," Diana reminds, shoving herself none-too-gently into the smaller girl. With a laugh, she adds, "But that's all in the past. Just let it go - I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," Abby responds glumly as they leave the cafe. "It's just really unfair."

"Things happen," Diana shrugs, remembering moments that feel so far away. "You should focus on your exam instead."

"Yes! The exam, oh my gosh, it's so soon," Abby bursts with a new wave of energy. "So, I'm coming over this week, right?"

"Sure," Diana says easily. "I'll have it cleaned up by then."

"Great! Wear something nice and not - not this," Abby wrinkles her nose at Diana's apparently lackluster attire of plain pants and a shirt. "Gosh, you're a tailor and you still dress like this? You're shaming the entire beauty community."

With a wave of her wand, she transfigures the pants into a modest skirt and charms the shirt's color to a pastel blue. "There, that's better."

"Leave my wardrobe out of this, Abby," Diana says with a roll of her eyes. She changes the skirt back to its original form with a tap of her wand, while returning the shirt's former color with a brush of her fingers.

"Hmph," Abby turns her nose and sniffs, utterly unrepentant. "Spoilsport. Anyways, I'll see you this week, okay?"

And without waiting for another response, she disappears, quickly apparating away with a sharp _crack!_

… _Sundays,_ Diana thinks, left alone in the middle of an alley. She begins her walk back to the shop with a sigh. _Why is it always Sundays?_


	4. Chapter 4

**IV:**

She should've done the weekly report earlier.

Sweeping the shop's floor nearly half-conscious, Diana is sorely tempted to close early and get some desperately needed sleep. But no, this is the price to pay when it comes to procrastination, and she's ruined if she misses a chance with a potential customer.

Traffic has been slow with the occasional customer here and there. It's enough to keep her mostly fed since her Ministry funds go towards the shop itself, but it certainly isn't the scenario she envisioned when she first received the grant.

 _I almost ran over Flitwick,_ she remembers, thinking back to the year previous. The memory is almost bittersweet.

She's nearly swept up in the haze of nostalgia when suddenly, the bell at the front door rings abruptly.

"Hello?" A rather young, _American_ voice calls out.

"O-Oh, hello!" Diana calls back, tossing her broom to the side and wiping away any hint of drool. "Welcome! How can I help you?"

"Um, yes, hello," a woman with chestnut hair and equally dark eyes appears, lingering hesitantly along the doorway. "I'm in need of some help. I have an interview coming up tomorrow and I just couldn't seem to find anyone in time."

"I see!" Diana says, hypocritically thinking that lately, there's been an uprise of people leaving things to the _very last minute_. But the accent is a nostalgic one from a lifetime before, and Diana can make allowances for past memories. "I'll see what I can do - do you need help with something in particular?"

"Yes! My robes, please? My tailor wasn't able to look at them before I came here," the woman says quickly, her shoulders relaxing at the prospect of receiving some help. "I don't have much, but I'll take whatever you can offer with it."

"I completely understand, ma'am," Diana hums, gesturing the other woman to follow her to the lounge. "Can I have a look at them, please?"

"Of course!" the woman opens her pouch, tucked to the side of her blouse and blazer, and pulls out a set of formal robes, unshrinking them in the process.

Hiding a wince, Diana gently accepts the offered and comments, "Just a word of advice, ma'am? I would be careful keeping your robes shrinked; sometimes, magic can unravel the stitching depending on the fabric."

"Oh gosh, really?" the woman starts in alarm. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know. Will that be a problem?"

"It doesn't seem like it at the moment," Diana traces a finger over the enlarged robes before flipping them over to inspect the other side. "I see you have a few tears - did you also want a professional cleaning as well?"

"If I can afford it, that would be great," the other woman rushes to say, pushing away the long bangs framing her face. "It's also a little big on me…"

"Hmm, that should be fine," Diana says distractedly. The robes aren't self-adjusting? Must be made of fragile material, or just made a very long time ago. "Could you put them on for me, please?"

The entire sequence continues smoothly, and though she's a bit disappointed no clothing will be made today, it's easy work for good money.

"Hmm, maybe a few centimeters," she murmurs as a measuring tape floats casually nearby. Marking specific places with a few pins, she gestures for the woman to take the robes off. "Okay, I think we're all set now. Would you like some tea while you wait?"

"Oh, you're going to do it now?" the woman stumbles forward, more strands of her dark hair falling to her face. At the sight of the incoming tea set, she hurriedly adds, "And water is fine, thank you."

Turning her back to the woman, Diana makes a face. What sort of person denies her tea?

"Very well then," Diana then says, slighted but that's okay - it's not _her_ loss. _She'll_ certainly be having tea. "It'll just be a moment."

With that said and done, she hands over a cup of water and gingerly rests the worn robes over a high table near the counter, close to the storage room in the back.

"So what interview are you preparing for? If you don't mind me asking," Diana begins, eyeing the tears with interest. The fabric is a dark silver, made of dyed silk laced with white thread along the edges.

 _Good quality,_ she presses her lips together. _But not made of magical silkworm - no wonder it isn't self-adjusting. Definitely not common in London, but it'll certainly make a statement._

"The interview is for my upcoming residency," the woman says, sipping her water slowly. From the corner of her eye, Diana watches as the woman attempts to peer at the work space without moving from her seat. "It'll be for St Mungo's and their internship program."

"Ah," the sound slips out before Diana can hold it. With renewed vigor, she patches the rips carefully with a mending charm, mindful of keeping the stitches even. "I've heard of that program."

"Oh, have you?" the woman's voice perks up, enthusiasm coloring her tone. Her words pick up pace as Diana finishes the last tear. "It's a terribly difficult program to get into, or so I've heard. It would mean more than anything if I could study under Healer Smethwyk in the DLW."

There is a long pause before the woman hastily adds, "Oh, sorry, DLW stands for - "

"The Dai Llewellyn Ward. I'm aware," Diana interjects, unable to stop herself. She scowls at her lack of control as she snips off the loose ends of every thread. "My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"That's okay!" the woman's tone remains incredibly bright. Keeping her lips tightly shut, Diana shortens the length of the sleeves with a tricky cutting charm, before adjusting the entire fabric. "I'm surprised that so many people here know about St. Mungo's floors! It's not the same back in the States. But I guess that's what sets St. Mungo's apart - their selection process is so competitive, I nearly passed out when they told me I got through the pre screening rounds!"

Listening to the woman's increasingly excited chatter, Diana makes an acknowledging noise from the back of her throat.

"Oh, now, _I'm_ sorry," the woman continues, stopping her words short. "I'm just so nervous, I mean, the DLW isn't as infamously difficult to get into as the upper floors, but still…"

"The program is famous for a reason," Diana answers slowly, raising the robes upright as a bottle of non-hazardous cleaning solution floats from the drawers nearby. "You don't need to apologize, ma'am. There's nothing wrong with being nervous."

"That's very kind of you to say," the woman says, as Diana guides the robes to the back and gently lays them in a wide sink full of cold water. A timed charm hits the water, leaving the fabric to soak in the cleaning solution for ten minutes before a rinse.

Fainter, in the background, the woman's voice does not cease, "I guess it makes sense to feel nervous. They receive applications from all over Great Britain - from other clinics, and even from regional schools too. It's just, just a little overwhelming to come from overseas, y'know?"

In the midst of the woman's words, Diana pulls up two cups of tea and joins the woman at the lounge.

"I can't say I closely relate to the feeling," Diana starts, lying boldly between her teeth as if her entire world had not been uprooted seventeen years past. Nonchalantly, she slides one of the cups to her customer as she says, "But I'm sure you'll make the best of what you can, ma'am. They wouldn't have invited you over from America if they didn't consider your application good enough."

"That does make sense," the woman says after a long pause. A smile slowly forms as she hides behind her cup of tea. Taking a tentative sip, her eyes widen as Diana places a few sugar cubes into her own tea. "Oh, wow! This is, this is really good. I don't really like tea all that much, but this is delicious!"

"You exaggerate, ma'am," Diana says, barely stopping herself from agreeing with the praises.. "I'm glad you like it."

"No, no, I'm not!" the woman says hurriedly, her hands vibrating with some sort of energy. "I'm very jealous actually. You've got this whole shop going for you, and you make wonderful tea! I couldn't have done half the things you've already done at your age."

Diana's lips twist at the irony. _At my age?_

"Sometimes, you just get lucky, ma'am," Diana then says, gratified to find that she doesn't sound as empty as she feels. "And some other times, it takes patience."

 _Patience,_ Diana thinks bitterly, _and not enough of anything else._

The woman takes another slow sip of her tea, contemplative and silent.

A melodic chime rings through the air, marking the end of the robe's final rinse. Tapping her wand once, twice, Diana brings out both the robe and a small bucket.

Muttering under her breath, Diana flicks her wand towards her body, bringing out a trail of water from the soaked robe. She directs the every drop into the bucket and, in a few minutes, a shimmering, silvery robe is neatly packed away for use.

"I suggest hanging your robe tonight, to avoid any sort of wrinkles," Diana tells the woman as she hands over the packaged robe. "Putting on heat will ruin the material, so this would be your best bet."

The woman accepts the package with wide eyes, the sight almost covered by her long bangs.

"I, thank you!" she says hastily, rummaging through her pouch. With a wince, she asks, "What, what about the payment?"

Humming contemplatively, Diana punches a few numbers into her remarkably old cash register. "Well, mending, cleaning and tailoring for a single robe should come out to four sickles."

"Four sickles?" the woman blurts out. "That's, that's a ridiculous number!"

Diana looks back down at her numbers. "Really? I could've sworn it would be reasonable - "

"It's not reasonable!" the woman sputters, arms flailing and nearly hitting the nearby display of scrunchies. "A deep cleanse back home would've cost five sickles at least!"

"That," Diana begins to say, a little bewildered at where the conversation is heading. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course it is!" the woman says adamantly, pushing her bangs out of the way. "Just think about the materials spent! And the magic!"

Diana blinks, bemused, because surely it should be the exact opposite of a problem.

"Four sickles," Diana then says firmly, though with an easy smile. "These are my rates, ma'am."

"Although," Diana adds when it appears that the woman is about to protest again. "If you really want to support my business that much, you can purchase something from my wares."

Waving her wand, Diana levitates a scrunchie from the top shelf of her display and brings it back to the counter.

"Oh wow," the woman peers at the accessory, carefully lifting it to look at the black lace, patterned like constellations, a pair of gossamer pearls hanging loosely on the side.

Diana gives her most winning business smile, and says, "I've noticed your hair tends to get in the way. You can have this half off since you've already purchased another service."

The woman turns to give a wry smile, as if she is all too aware of what Diana is trying to do, but still pulls out the right amount of coins.

"I'll take it," she tells Diana, and immediately ties her hair up with the scrunchie.

Glancing at the lace decorating chestnut hair, Diana gives a smile.

"It looks good on you," she says, something similar to pride swelling inside her at the sight.

* * *

 **-o-o-o-o-o-**

* * *

The woman departs soon after, pearls in her hair and dress robes tucked tightly in hand.

"Thank you again for the help," she says, standing at the entrance of the store.

"Anytime," Diana says. Then, almost as if she means it, she adds, "Best of luck on your interview. I hope you get in."

"I hope so too!" the woman says with a laugh. Waving farewell, she heads down the old cobblestone road, probably not familiar enough with the area to apparate.

Diana stares after the disappearing figure, something tight gripping her heart, until she lets it go in a deep, heavy sigh.

She turns to enter her store once again, ready to close shop for the day, only to pause as a cloaked man approaches on the far end of the street.

Her grip on the doorknob tightens, muscles frozen, unwilling to move.

The man slows to a stop, right in front of the flower shop across the street, his features narrow and nearly gaunt, a sneer on his menacing face.

Diana swallows, and doesn't bother going for a smile. "Good afternoon, professor."

Snape lets his lips curl inward even further.

"Inglewood," he hisses, like it's a curse, and considering the weight (or lack thereof) behind the name, it may as well be. "I see you're still hiding behind this farce."

Too familiar with this argument, Diana shakes her head and gives a helpless smile.

"Would you," she gestures vaguely to the store behind her. "Would you like some tea?"

There is a short pause, and Diana almost believes she has him convinced, until a derisive snort is sent her way.

Staring after the billowing cloak that disappears into the fading light, Diana lets her smile melt away.

"Too soon, I guess," she murmurs to the empty street, and enters the store with heavy shoulders. The sudden reminder of things left behind sting her tongue and bitterly, she mutters, "You're not the only one."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 **a little more of Diana's hidden history! take a few guesses to what it might be - we'll be exploring more of it as time goes on.**

 **look forward to next time!**

 **\- SE**


	5. Chapter 5

**V:**

 _The heels of her boots clack along the stone floor, sharp and piercing through the quiet halls._

 _She doesn't dare to run, but her pace is near frantic as she clutches a formal envelope, the pristine white paper crinkled in her hands._

 _Countless torches of fire dance in the hallway, their light touching her face as she takes a few sharp corners._

 _The darkness of the dungeons no longer bother her anymore._

 _Nearly stumbling into the wide, wooden door, she knocks twice, impatiently, and doesn't wait before swinging the heavy door open._

 _"Professor," she blurts out, "I just got the letter and - "_

 _A heavy glare forces her to close her mouth with a click._

 _"I mean," she coughs, lowering her voice. "I have some very exciting news, sir. Well, for me, but I'm not too sure about you - "_

 _Snape briefly closes his eyes, as if he is imagining the best way to murder her and hide the body, before saying evenly. "Spit it out, Inglewood."_

 _As always, her name sounds awfully like an insult when it comes from Snape. It's a familiar sound that she's become accustomed to._

 _She beams. Not even his terrible personality could sour this moment. "I passed! Can you believe it, professor? I - "_

 _"How lovely," Snape says in an incredibly flat voice. "Now leave."_

 _"Of course, sir," she continues to say, as if she hadn't been interrupted in the first place. "I know I haven't said it enough but thank y - "_

 _In an impressive show of wandless magic, the door to Snape's office slams shut on her face._

 _Diana looks down at the white letter in her hands and gives a single, quiet smile._

* * *

 **-o-o-o-o-o-**

* * *

Returning the right amount of change, Diana waves cheerfully at the little girl sporting a brand new maroon headband.

"Look, mommy!" she says with a hush. "It has my name! And butterflies!"

Her mother gives a patient smile. "Yes, I can see that. It looks lovely, Tahlia."

The woman turns back to the counter, still keeping a careful eye on the Tahlia as she wanders around the store.

"I must admit, I haven't been this pleasantly surprised in years," the mother says, a wry smile revealing a set of gleaming white teeth that brightens against dark skin.

Diana flushes, hoping the paleness of _her_ skin doesn't reveal much.

"You're more than welcome to come back for seasonal accessories," Diana rushes to say, barely able to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

The mother sends a knowing smile. "I'll be sure to do that."

And with that all said, she turns to collect her daughter before waving farewell.

"Bye, miss!" Tahlia calls out as they leave. "I'll take good care of my crown! I promise!"

Biting down a laugh, Diana gives her own bright response, only to pause when she catches sight of a very familiar face almost plastered in front of her store window.

"Are you bloody serious," Diana mutters, stomping to the front entrance and swinging the door open. She barks out, "I told you my closing hours! What are you doing here so early?"

Abby smiles sheepishly before batting her eyelashes. "You said five! And so here I am, at five!"

Diana brings a hand to her forehead. "That doesn't mean you should come _right at five_."

Abby shrugs unsympathetically.

Muttering incoherently under her breath for a moment, Diana steps back to make space in the entryway. "Ugh. Just. Just come in."

"Thanks!" Abby says brightly, sauntering into the store as if she owned it herself. "Oh, by the way, did you know your sign outside is slightly crooked?"

"Say another word, and I _will_ kick you out."

* * *

 **-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

* * *

They head upstairs to her apartment after a good amount of time is used to let Abby coo at the store wares.

"They're so cute!" she exclaims as they climb the stairs. "I'm so glad you're making this work!"

At the sudden praise, Diana shifts, sending a jolt of magic through the door knob to unlock it. She mumbles, "Thanks."

Abby beams and enters the apartment without hesitation.

"Not bad," Abby notes, taking a quick look around before waving her wand to unpack all of her supplies. The tiny space next to Diana's kitchen has already been cleared.

Diana shrugs. "I get what I paid for."

Abby hums distractedly, at least a dozen bottles dancing sedately around her. She pulls her wand abruptly downward and, with a short few words, an old newspaper is transfigured into a new wooden chair.

Diana looks at the embroidered cushion on the chair with a wrinkled nose.

"Now that's just showing off," she mutters under her breath.

"Sit," Abby commands, already creating a thin stream of water to sprout from her wand and into a basin.

Diana quickly sits, recognizing the utter focus on Abby's face.

Abby dabs a damp cloth onto Diana's face and, pouring several liquids into her hands, she then asks, "So, how's the week treating you?"

The sincerity behind those simple words nearly leaves Diana smiling, but a stern look from Abby sends her face falling blank once again.

(Almost achingly, Diana wonders if she'll ever be as genuine as that).

"Everything's been slow," Diana says, flinching slightly when something cold is placed on her face. Behind her, a floating brush carefully untangles her hair.

Abby makes a sympathetic noise. She flicks her wand in a series of motions and several liquids pour out into a bowl. "I know how that feels. You're doing okay, though?"

Diana takes a moment to consider the question. Slightly damp cotton pads gently dab at her skin.

"Yeah," she finally says, in the patient silence. "I think I'm okay."

Abby gives an approving smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

There is a short moment of reprieve, where a timer is set to allow the different products to sit on Diana's skin.

In those quiet pauses, Diana wonders if she should say anything, or say nothing, or just let her thoughts move on -

"I saw Snape yesterday," she blurts out, unable to stop herself. It had always been difficult to keep things from Abby. "He passed by the shop in the afternoon."

Fingers frozen above a basin of water, Abby rears her head back. " _What?_ "

She scrambles forward, eyebrows drawn tight, hands already hovering over Diana's still form. "What did he say? _Did_ he say anything? Oh my god, did he _do_ anything?"

Pausing, Abby quietly asks, "Are you okay?"

Diana blinks. Once, twice, then several times.

"Um," she lets out, before clearing her throat. "He made a comment and left. The usual, I guess."

Abby hisses, the sound unnaturally fierce considering her small frame.

"Damn," she breathes out, shoulders falling. "That's some terrible timing right there."

Diana gives a helpless smile.

"Well, I can see where he's coming from," Abby continues with a wince. She grabs some sort of powdery container and tears off the lid with a pop. "To him, it might have looked like you just gave up."

Diana lets out a short laugh.

"It didn't just look like it," she says, somewhat wryly. "I _did_ give up."

Abby takes her free hand and smacks the side of Diana's arm none-too-gently.

"Ow!"

"Don't you dare say that," she orders sternly, completely unrepentant. Nearby, a soft compact lightly pats itself onto Diana's cheeks. "You're being ridiculous and you know it."

"Ugh," Diana says, her voice muffled when another charm settles onto her skin. Her lips lift upwards. "You're turning into your mother."

Abby sniffs. "I'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.."

Another half an hour passes, the conversation turning lighter, and with excessive flourish, Abby presents a conjured mirror.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself," Abby says, preening as Diana makes several admiring noises.

Smiling tentatively, Diana peers into the mirror, skipping over her narrowed eyes (grey and dull and _still_ strange) and focusing on her smooth, flawless skin. Her dark circles nonexistent and cheeks painted a soft pink, black hair braided to the side, revealing a set of angular features tempered by products -

In this light, Diana would almost say she looks _soft._

"Amazing as always," she says, lips curving at the stranger, more approachable version of herself.

Abby laughs, delighted, and waves off the compliment. "Once my training is over, I'm going to make your cheekbones so sharp they'll cut through dragonhide."

Diana rolls her eyes, though her smile doesn't waver. "Yes, yes, whatever you say."

Taking a step back, Diana watches from the side as Abby swiftly packs away her supplies.

"I think you'll do great," she then says, ducking under an overeager potion as it flies overhead. "It's next week, right? Your exam?"

Abby groans, hands to her face, but careful to avoid the lines around her eyes. "Don't remind me. _Please._ "

"You'll be fine," Diana says insistently back. "Don't think too much about it."

Closing her suitcase with a soft click, Abby turns around, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"You know what," she says, most likely taking Diana's words to a whole other, unrelated direction. "You're completely right. I _do_ need a break."

Diana rubs her forehead, utterly unsurprised. "That is _not_ what I said - "

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"Why do I even bother?" Diana asks to no one but herself. She shakes her head nonetheless. "No can do. I'm going back home to visit tomorrow."

Abby's eyes widen. "It's that time already? That's terrible! June's almost over!"

"It's not my fault you can't keep track of your dates," Diana snipes back, though there isn't any heat behind her words.

Abby groans. "Okay, fine. What about Sunday?"

Diana narrows her eyes. "You work on Sundays."

"Yeah, but Nadine's giving me the day off," Abby shoots back, tossing her curled, blonde hair behind her shoulder. "So it should be fine."

"It's fine unless you get an emergency appointment," Diana says pointedly, though she can hear the defeat creeping in her voice.

Apparently, Abby can hear it as well, because with a beam, she says, "So Sunday? Perfect! I'll book us something fun to do."

Diana heaves a heavy sigh.

"Nothing too expensive, please," she mumbles as a final gambit. It's a useless endeavor, unfortunately enough.

Abby taps her wand to her suitcase twice, shrinking it, and pockets it away into her coat. "Sure, sure. You like aquariums, right?"

"I do," Diana says slowly, a little more appeased this time.

Abby grins, the sight near blinding because of her perfectly straight teeth. "Great! I'll see you Sunday then!"

And then, with a not-quite-subtle _crack,_ she turns, disappearing from sight.

In the leftover silence, Diana brings a hand to her smarting ear, and calls out, exasperatedly, "Not inside! Merlin, how many times do I have to tell you?"

 **.**

 **.**

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* * *

 **what's this? people need drama to keep their lives interesting? sorry, i only have "healthy, caring friendships" written in this dictionary.**

 **i absolutely love hearing what guesses or speculations you might have - obviously as time goes on, things will be much clearer, but i certainly hope you're enjoying the ride! in case you haven't already noticed, i've been trying to have Diana and the other OCs reflect magical adulthood - though most of the Harry Potter series gives a certain characteristic to each individual, most children tend to grow into personalities much more multi-faceted then that. Hopefully, Abby and Diana's conversation seems more organic because of it!**

 **as always, thank you for the support and love - look forward to more!**

 **\- SE**


	6. Chapter 6

**VI:**

" _This is the last call for the 9:15 train to West Sussex. Please keep an eye on your belongings at all times. This is the last call for the 9:15 train to West Sussex. Please - "_

Covering a yawn, Diana trudges along the platform, an old travel bag slung over her shoulders.

She shuffles into a seat, tucking her bag underneath and settling into the oddly patterned fabric. Half an hour later, she hands over her ticket before folding her arms, closing her eyes, and taking a short, if uncomfortable nap.

Her eyes startle open, three hours later, the sun now shining brightly through the windows. Wiping any hint of drool from her face, Diana grabs her belongings and walks out into the station.

Another thirty minutes by taxi takes her to a gravel filled path. She tips the driver and hauls her bag out of the trunk. Resignedly, she begins to walk, the crunch of stones incredibly sharp beneath her old boots.

Gnarled, unkempt trees sway along the winding road, the thick leaves allowing only spots of sunlight to hit the floor. Diana inhales deeply, the strong scent of oak helping to clear her thoughts.

Eventually, an old, weathered building comes into view, its brick walls stained and a series of rusty fences surrounding the premise.

To the side, a simple playground sits, what was once bright colors now dull from use and age. Muffled shrieks and chatter rapidly becoming clearer, at least half a dozen children chase each other on the trimmed lawn.

Diana heaves the entrance gate open, the metal creaking and whining horribly. The sound catches several children's attention and, almost immediately after, a rampage of little limbs is thrown her way.

"Oof!" Diana coughs, nearly thrown onto the ground. "Guys, please - "

"Diana, Diana!" one girl, blue eyes bright and blonde hair cropped short. "You're back, you're back!"

"Guys, guys! Diana's back, SHE'S BACK - "

"How's school? Did they kick you out?"

"Did you bring _presents?_ "

"Diana, look! I LOST A TOOTH - "

With great effort, Diana heaves forward, somehow making it to the door, despite the heavy burdens clinging to her legs and arms.

"Alright, you losers!" she calls out, shaking herself rapidly in hopes that it would remove a few from her body. "Off! I need to speak with the matron first!"

"Aw," a chorus of whines ring through the air, but the children release her obediently enough.

Diana rolls her eyes, but doesn't bother to hide the smile on her lips. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll be back out in a few, okay?"

Receiving distracted responses (several children had already returned to their games), Diana snorts and enters the building, a sense of nostalgia growing as she walks through the tiled halls.

Walking past a familiar aging sign ( _Welcome to the Inglewood Home for Young Children_ ), Diana knocks on a wooden door before walking into a cramped office.

An elderly woman, grey hair falling loosely over her shoulders, a rather severe grey dress hanging past her knees, startles greatly.

"My goodness!" the woman brings a hand to her heaving chest. "Give a woman some warning, will you?"

Diana smiles. "Good morning, Matron Hill."

Matron Hill huffs, tugging free a thick file of documents.

"So, you've come back to visit, have you?" she folds her arms, her eyes crinkling and the weathered lines on her face lifting. "Are you staying the night?"

Diana shakes her head. "Just here for the day, unfortunately."

Laughing, Matron Hill unfolds her arms and walks closer. "Very well then. Do what you must."

"It's just a check-up," Diana mutters, but dutifully pulls out her wand and waves it over the matron's body. "No need for dramatics."

"I don't want to hear that from you," Matron Hill scolds, remaining very still. "I still remember when those strange people came for you, years ago. You threw such a fit - "

"For a good reason!" Diana interrupts, wincing at the reminder. Another flick of her wand over a blank sheet of paper brings several charts and paragraphs of information.

Matron Hill clicks her tongue. "You gave them so much trouble, I'm impressed they kept you in that school for so long."

Eyes roving over the information, swiftly checking each section, Diana answers distractedly, "I'm a little amazed myself, to be perfectly honest."

She frowns slightly, and lets out a tiny sigh. "Well, you're as healthy as you can be, I suppose."

Matron Hill waves off the news. "That's better than what most can hope for."

Diana hums, still focused on the charts on the very last page, outlining cholesterol levels, possible genetic disorders, blood pressure irregularities -

A few minutes later, she starts, bringing her eyes up to find Matron Hill's understanding smile.

"Sorry," Diana says, hating the flush in her cheeks.

Matron Hill shakes her head, that same smile still on her face. "Oh, hush. How's your shop these days?"

"Pretty slow," Diana says, taking the subject change at face value. "But it's been gradually getting better."

"Slow and steady wins the race," Matron Hill chants, repeating a common phrase from Diana's own childhood. "Now, why don't you go check on the children? They've been eager to see you."

"They're just bored," Diana rolls her eyes, but dutifully heads out the door anyways. "And I have presents."

Matron Hill chuckles. "Ah, but aren't all children like that? Go on."

Saluting half-heartedly, Diana drags her travel bag back outside and, bracing herself, gently sets it down on the ground.

Almost immediately, like magic itself, a stampede of half a dozen children rush to her spot.

"Is that it?" one boy asks, already tugging at the duffel bag impatiently. "Are the presents in here?"

"Hey!" another girl protests, pushing him to the side. "It's my turn to go first!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"No!"

"Yes - "

"Alright, you gremlins," Diana groans, dragging her hands down her face. "Calm down or _none_ of you get presents."

Gasps filter through the crowd.

"Sorry, Diana," the boy says promptly, elbowing his friend.

"Yeah," the girl says sulkily, blonde hair tied tightly into pigtails. "Sorry."

Diana smiles.

"No harm done," she announces, opening the duffel bag. Ignoring the vibrating children waiting in anticipation, she pulls out a simple, black cap. "This is for you, Henry."

"YES," the previous boy blurts out, black hair nearly covering his eyes.

All too soon, Diana passes each and every hat out to the children, leaving them to marvel and compare their new accessories.

Minutes later, when Diana lifts her lighter bag over her shoulders, she catches sight of the previous girl sitting quietly on the stairs outside.

Head tilting, Diana walks steadily over, the gravel underneath her shoes crunching uncomfortably.

"Elizabeth?" she crouches down, tugging one of the girl's pigtails. "You okay?"

Elizabeth shakes her head, pulling down her new pastel pink hat harder onto her head.

Diana blinks. "Okay, well, are you hurt? No? Are you sad?"

Elizabeth shakes her head again.

"Hey, hey," Diana shifts to the side, moving to sit next to the girl. "Is it because of Henry?"

"No," Elizabeth finally says quietly. "It's not."

Diana hums. "Okay. Then, can I give you a hug?"

There is a short silence, before Elizabeth nods once.

"Oh dear," Diana says, careful to not show her smile. She wraps her arms around the much smaller girl. "Well, whenever you need it - I'm here for you."

Elizabeth turns her head, burying it into Diana's shoulders. A few minutes later, in a very quiet voice, she asks, "Why don't I have a mum?"

Diana pauses.

"Well," she says slowly, rubbing circles on Elizabeth's back. "I can't say for sure. But I know I'm very glad to have met you, Elizabeth. And even if you don't have a mum, you still have everyone here - your friends, Henry, Matron Hill and me. That's a pretty big family, don't you think?"

Elizabeth sniffles before pulling herself away, leaving a damp spot on Diana's shirt.

"I guess." she says, tugging her hat even further down. "Does that mean this is my home too?"

This time, Diana does not bother to hide her smile. She used to ask that same question all the time. "Of course it is."

Rubbing furiously at her eyes, Elizabeth returns the smile with a wobbly one of her own. She hobbles to a stand, hands still clenched tight around her hat.

"Thank you for the present, Diana," she says. "You always bring the best ones."

Lips tugging upwards, Diana gives a short laugh. "Is that so?"

"It is!" Elizabeth says insistently, voice growing brighter by the second. "They're a part of my home too."

Briefly, Diana wonders if Elizabeth can feel the runes stitched under the fabric of her hat, the set of words carved for protection, for warmth, for _love -_

Shaking her head, she stands up and pats Elizabeth's head instead.

"Silly," Diana says, tugging one of Elizabeth's pigtails. "They're just hats."

"And don't you know?" she continues, tickling Elizabeth till she lets out a giggle. "You're a bigger part of this home, of _my_ home, than what these little things will ever be."

Elizabeth peers up from underneath the rim of her hat, eyes wide. "Really?"

Heart clenching, Diana crouches down to wrap her arms around Elizabeth.

(How many years has she spent here, trying to convince herself of the same thing?).

"Of course," Diana murmurs, amidst the joyful shrieks of the children in the playground, the summer wind blowing on their faces, the worn-down building behind them. "Have I ever lied to you, Elizabeth?"

The tiny arms tightening around her is an answer in itself.

 **.**

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* * *

 **a deeper look into Diana's history! I've left several hints on her past, but they still need some development! honestly, if you can pick up on what's going underneath, I'd be terribly impressed.**

 **i'm pretty sure it's very clear that Diana grew up in this world as an orphan, and there are several implications behind that single fact as well.**

 **i'm really glad to hear that many people seem to like the pace of this story! i'm terribly fond of Diana and every other OC in this fic, and I hope you're enjoying the ride as well - it's really fun to constantly unravel Diana's life and magic itself with her journey.**

 **your thoughts are always appreciated, but thank you to everyone who has enjoyed "you can't hide from the stars" till now!**

 **\- SE**


	7. Chapter 7

**VII:**

Diana wakes up to the sound of her alarm, already dreading the day to come.

"Sundays," she complains, dragging herself out from her old but warm bed.

Shuffling to the bathroom, she turns the rusted faucet, and with a sputter, water pours down from the showerhead.

Twenty minutes later, Diana slips into a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. Yawning broadly, she steps into her kitchen and opens her ancient refrigerator, leaning closer to get a better look.

She squints at the ingredients inside before deciding she can last another week with them.

Pouring out a cup of water, she drinks heartily, her other hand outreached towards her bedroom. A few seconds later, her wand flies into the palm of her hand, fingers curling instinctively around the wood.

Immediately, a short burst of warmth travels through her arm.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles, a smile on her lips. "I got it, I got it."

Letting a wide, open yawn, Diana twirls her wand twice, counterclockwise, before sweeping it upwards. Almost abruptly, several cabinets spring open as a trail of ingredients float from the refrigerator.

Another flick and an old, weathered frying pan sets itself on a stove. Muttering under her breath, Diana shoots a small spark and soon enough, a tiny fire is brought to life.

She hums a familiar melody, as a few vegetables are chopped up on the side, while a couple eggs are beaten furiously by an over eager fork.

Diana frowns disapprovingly at the sight. "Hey! Not too hard - you're spilling on the side!"

Properly chastised, the fork droops slightly, before beating the eggs at a slower pace.

"Better," Diana says, a laugh bubbling in her throat.

Keeping an eye out on the charmed tools (she hasn't been able to fully trust these charms ever since that fiasco in her fifth year), she pours herself a cup of milk.

Eventually, the smell of fried eggs and vegetables wafts through the apartment. Diana drains her entire cup before tossing it into the sink - the porcelain cup floats gently down before the faucet turns on.

A half hour later, Diana looks down at the two packed lunches, a smile curled on her lips.

"Am I great friend or what?" she asks to the empty silence, hands on her hips. Her hands move to grab the lunches, only for a startling thud to hit the window in the kitchen.

"Bloody _hell,_ " Diana swears, nearly smacking the food to the side. She walks briskly to the window, a scowl on her face.

"Are you serious?" she asks rhetorically as she flings the window open, a hand rubbing at her face. "Didn't she say she'd train this out of you?"

A rather ruffled looking tawny owl steps through the window, his mottled brown feathers raised unnaturally high.

"!" Pigeon, Abby's infamous owl, shrieks, fluttering into Diana's apartment like a man on a mission.

Diana makes a face. "You just slammed your entire body into my kitchen window and now you want _snacks?_ "

Pigeon hops onto the table, waving a leg impatiently.

"Ugh," Diana rolls her eyes, but obligingly digs into a nearby drawer and pulls out a bag of new (and perhaps a little stale) owl treats. "Abby spoils you rotten."

"You know," she continues, tearing open the bag before presenting it to His Royal Majesty. "You're the whole reason why I'm hesitant on getting a pet myself."

Pigeon leans forward, already disinterested in whatever is being said, to examine the offered treats. He huffs shortly a moment later.

Diana pauses from untying the letter attached to his leg. "What? It's not good enough for you?"

Pigeon trills, the sound appearing awfully disapproving.

"Well, I guess I'll just take this back then," Diana snaps, without heat, a hand already on the bag. Unsurprisingly, Pigeon scrambles, moving again to push her hand away.

Diana snorts, but leaves the owl alone to open the delivered letter, which turns out to be more like a note considering its dishevelled, crumpled state.

Unfolding the paper forces another smaller piece to fall out, the design looking much like a ticket.

Diana turns back to the letter, squinting at the neat but slanted words written hastily out on paper.

"An emergency appointment that I can't escape," she reads aloud, her voice rising continuously higher. "I know we made plans but I didn't want these tickets to go to waste - oh my god, _I knew it._ "

 _And before you say I told you so -_ the letter continues - _just know that it was completely out of my hands! I know how much you love the aquarium, so even if I can't go, I know you'll enjoy it anyways! But make sure you dress nicely~ I'll make it up to you, I promise!_

 _Your one and only true love,_

 _Abby_

Diana looks down at the ticket still in her hand, only to double-take, before bringing it even closer to her line of sight.

There is a moment of silence.

"Pigeon," she then says, to the owl still gorging on the treats next to her. "How has your owner survived this long, living on only one brain cell?"

Without waiting for an answer, Diana reaches for a nearby quill and, flipping the letter over, writes her response in big, wide letters:

 _AQUARIUM? THESE ARE TICKETS TO THE ZOO, YOU FOOL._

Sighing heavily, Diana runs a hand through her nearly dried hair. Tying the letter back on Pidgeon's leg, she mutters under her breath, "I'm going to make fun of her for this till the day we die."

"Alright, that's enough for you," she says in a louder voice, pulling the treats away despite the squawks of protest. "Get this back to her. Maybe eat some of her hair too while you're at it."

Pigeon sniffs, bumping his head once into her arm before flying to the window. He hops once, twice, and then disappears from sight.

"Dress nicely, she says," Diana shuffles into a pair of boots and pockets the ticket away. "It's the _zoo._ "

(She grabs a cardigan from her closet anyways).

Pausing at the lunches, she blinks, and then proceeds to pack both into her backpack.

 _Maybe I'll get really hungry,_ she thinks, tucking her wand up her sleeve.

Locking the door behind her, Diana trudges down the stairs, still somewhat amazed at the turn of events and, more importantly, at how a single person could be so enthusiastic, yet so wrong at the same time.

* * *

 **-o-o-o-o-o-**

* * *

The trip to the local zoo takes a little less than an hour by train, and by the time Diana arrives at the entrance, the place is already filled with visiting families from all over.

She raises a hand to cover her face from the sun and skips ahead to the gate, handing her pre purchased ticket to the guard.

"Alone?" he asks, appearing only mildly interested in her answer.

Diana shrugs. There's a comfort in doing things alone, at times.

She grabs a map from the information desk and begins walking to the right, towards the aviary. At one point, between weaving through tiny children and ducking under sweating older men, Diana eventually digs a hand through her bag to pull out a hat.

Halfway through her walk in the zoo, she gives in to temptation and buys a popsicle from a nearby ice cream stand.

 _This isn't too bad,_ she thinks, walking sedately on the paved roads and through towering trees. _It's nice to not have to do anything for a while._

Biting into the strawberry popsicle, Diana heads into the next exhibit, an enclosed building with dim lights inside. The temperature drops down a few degrees - something she can appreciate with the rising heat outside.

A series of glass encased tanks line the walls, each holding a tropical habitat, lush with colorful plants and pools of murky water.

Diana peers into the closest one, where a tiny, bright blue frog basks on a wooden branch.

"How cute," she coos, before taking another bite of her ice cream. A pair of young boys race past her, running deeper into the building, but Diana remains still, relishing her own slow pace.

Eventually, after moving on from a larger tank filled with several bearded lizards, she reaches what is likely the final room, a rounded enclosure full of different types of snakes.

Diana smiles, lifting her half-eaten ice cream to the nearest exhibit in what is almost nostalgia. She moves slowly down the wall, the small number of visitors allowing her to take her time at each tank.

Her eyes move to the left, only to find a boy staring deeply into what is likely the largest exhibit in the room. Lips quirking upwards, Diana returns her attention to the glass screen in front of her.

Minutes later, there is a sudden scuffle, the sound of feet scraping across the tiled floor.

Tearing her eyes from the pair of snakes circling each other, Diana turns to see the same pair of boys rushing in. They head straight for the largest exhibit with such momentum, the larger one of them slams into the glass.

 _Ouch,_ Diana thinks, wincing at the loud thud that follows. She moves to take another bite of her ice cream, only to pause when the same pair push the boy from before down as well.

The boy falls down harshly, his elbows skinning the ground.

Diana frowns, already moving to reach the boy, until another course of action is decided for her when the glass screen in front of the exhibit _suddenly decides to disappear._

 _What the fuck,_ she thinks, whipping her head around to see if she had missed anyone else because that certainly hadn't been _her._

But no, the only people present in the room are herself and three _children, what the hell -_

She freezes when all too suddenly, an enormous boa constrictor slides out of the enclosure, which sends the pair of boys shrieking away in terror.

The boa constrictor pauses in front of the third boy, nodding once before slipping through the exit.

All too familiar with handling snakes, Diana only moves when the boa constrictor disappears completely from sight.

"Ohh," she says slowly, and takes another bite from her melting ice cream. She steps forward and crouches down to face the one most likely responsible for this incident. "That was you, wasn't it?"

The boy swallows, his dark hair swept in a ridiculously messy way. "I, sorry, I - "

"No harm done," Diana shrugs, swiftly finishing off her ice cream. The screams of other visitors (who have likely encountered the boa constrictor at this point) do poorly to support her words. "I get it."

And she really does. There had been some people in her year that couldn't control their accidental magic until fourth year - Abby had been a prime example.

"Sorry, what?" the boy repeats, blinking rapidly, only to pause when Diana offers a hand. It takes a moment before he hesitantly accepts it.

Diana pulls the boy up, a surprisingly easy feat, and smiles. "If you're surprised now, I guess you haven't found out yet?"

The boy gives no reaction to her words besides a wide-eyed look, which further confirms her guess.

"Well," Diana hums, giving a considering look at her remaining popsicle stick. Since vanished objects can only be unvanished by the castor, this is likely her only option. "It's not really my place to tell you, but I think it's common courtesy to help others when they need it."

And with that being said, she tosses the wooden stick onto the empty enclosure. Keeping her wand hidden in her sleeve, she circles it twice before jabbing it forward.

Immediately, the popsicle stick transforms into another, new glass screen, though slightly tainted with a pale yellow.

"Ugh," Diana grumbles. Mcgonagall would weep at the sight. "It's because it's wood, isn't it?"

"Whoa," the boy beside her whispers, green eyes almost as wide as the full moon.

Diana laughs at that. She glances back down at the boy and finds herself almost wishing to be in that same spot, experiencing magic for the very first time.

"We're not done yet," she tells him, before sending a simple cutting spell straight through the glass. Her arm covers the boy as the screen shatters into a million pieces.

Tiny pieces of glass bounce off her shield, but the sudden noise leaves the boy to jumping backward.

"What," he stammers, slowly rising from a flinch. " _What was that?_ "

Diana surveys the ceiling above and sends a stunner to the two security cameras present. The magic forcing the devices to halt, and recircuiting the system at the same time.

"That, young one," Diana begins, tucking her wand deeper into her sleeve. "Is your cover."

"My cover?" the boy repeats dumbly.

At that exact moment, a staff member of the zoo rushes in, followed by the same pair of boys from before, along with what is probably their families.

"That's him!" the portly half of the pair hollers, jabbing a finger towards the boy beside Diana. "He made the glass disappear! He was talking to the snake!"

The tall woman beside him turns a sickening pale of white.

Diana, in the meantime, takes this all in stride. She lets her shoulders hunch over in relief and hurries forward, beckoning the boy to stay by her side.

"Oh, thank goodness you're finally here, sir," Diana says, placing a hand over her chest. "Everything happened so quickly, I just, I didn't know what to do!"

The zookeeper, a middle-aged man with a rather impressive mustache, raises his arms. "I understand your worries, miss. If you wouldn't mind, could you explain what exactly happened here?"

Diana nods firmly. "Of course. I was admiring the reptiles in here when I heard a fight breaking out behind me."

"I turned to find two boys slamming into the glass repeatedly," she continues, furrowing her eyebrows. Her head shakes back and forth. "I thought it seemed terribly rude, as it might disturb the resting animals, but before I could say anything, the screen completely shattered!"

"WHAT?" one of the pair roars, his screams so piercing it brings nearly everyone in the room present to flinch. "SHE'S LYING!"

"I was in complete shock," Diana then says, under the portly boy's enraged shouts. She brings a hand gently to her face. "But when the snake inside started crawling out, I rushed to help this young child here instead."

She gestures to the boy next to her, who, for his part, appears shocked enough to support her own story.

"We stayed together just in case," Diana finally says, shaking her head. "I just didn't know if it was safe enough yet to go out!"

"Now hold on a moment," another man interrupts, his large stature confirming his relation to the young, portly boy. His face colors an intense shade of red. "Are you calling my son a liar?"

Diana leans back, widening her eyes. "I don't think I ever did that, sir. I'm just trying to explain what happened."

The zookeeper raises his hands again to keep the peace. "Let's keep this civil, please. It seems what the young lady here is saying is true - the glass definitely seems broken enough."

The man's face turns a shade darker, his anger so palpable, Diana can almost hear the steam coming out of his ears.

"Unfortunately, children often do what they can to cover their mistakes," she then says, rather sympathetically. "Heaven knows I used to when I was a child."

The zookeeper nods in agreement. "That seems to be the case. Vanishing glass, honestly! At least their imaginations are still running wild and free."

"THAT'S NOT TRUE," the portly boy shrieks, already on the floor and fiercely kicking around him. "I'M NOT A LIAR, I SAW IT, I SAW IT!"

"Oh dear," Diana says, shaking her head. The other family in the room turns to their own son.

"Is this true, Piers?"

"Uh," the other half of the pair says, looking down at his shoes. "Well, I guess we did hit the glass really hard."

The admission cinching the entire story, the zookeeper then turns to both sets of parents.

"I think we're done here for now," he says firmly, crossing his arms and looking severely at the two boys. "Let's have a talk with the director about compensation, shall we?""

Bringing himself further upward, the portly boy's father shakes a finger. "Now look here, I'm not going to compensate ANYONE based on a load of dirty lies - "

"Vernon, _please,_ " the wife interrupts, her face pale as more and more eyes turn their way. "Perhaps at a later time?"

Eventually, with much grumbling on one side, both parties begin to exit the building. Diana lingers toward the back as the dark-haired boy trails after the group.

"So," she says, tucking her hands into the pockets of her cardigan. "You here alone?"

The boy looks at her, eyes still incredibly wide and a measure of something flickering across his face. He hesitates.

"Sort of," he then says, nearly shrugging with those words. "It's not like I have any parents."

"Oh," Diana pauses, giving a side-eye glance down at the boy. "Same here."

The boy starts, head nearly turning back before he catches himself. He looks ahead and continues, "I'm, uh, here with my cousin. And _his_ parents."

Diana hums, opening the door to the building and letting him go through first. "Don't tell me. _That's_ your cousin?"

She gestures to the portly boy in front of them, still stubbornly on the floor and having to be dragged by his father.

The boy huffs out a laugh, crossing his arms. "Yeah, it is."

 _Godspeed,_ Diana thinks, patting the boy once lightly on the back.

At the split road ahead, Diana turns back to the boy, an easy smile on her lips.

"Here," she hands him her business card, marked with the store's name and address. "You're more than welcome to come find me, if you want. I'll even give you discount. Either way, I know what's it like to feel like a fish out of water."

The boy stares at the offered card before slowly reaching out and taking it. He squints through his thick glasses. "Twenty-four Nectar Alley?"

"Uh," Diana says, laughing slightly at how strange her address really sounds, once all the magic is removed. Before she can stop herself, she ruffles the boy's hair shortly.

"Hey," he says, without much heat.

"You'll figure it out eventually," she tells him, removing her hand and wondering, unable to _stop_ wondering, if this boy would have been happier at the orphanage - living with her, living with Matron Hill, with Elizabeth, with -

Diana shakes her head once.

"It's Diana, by the way," she then says, outreaching her hand.

There is another long pause, until the boy takes it, his hand almost completely covered in hers.

"Nice to meet you," he says, staring at their hands with a strange expression.

A sudden, sharp shout runs through the air and the boy freezes, his head turning behind him.

"Go on then," Diana says, and it takes everything in her to not sound sympathetic. She gives a smile instead. "Maybe I'll see you later."

For perhaps the first time, the boy returns the smile. "Yeah. Maybe."

And then he turns around, running back to the remains of his family, leaving a tug inside Diana's gut.

She exhales heavily.

"Remember, Diana," she says under her breath, repeating the same warnings Matron Hill had given her years ago. A hand runs through her hair vigorously. "You can't kidnap every child you come across, you can't kidnap every child you come across - "

Continuing her mantra, Diana trudges down the path, ready to cut her visit short to take a much needed _nap_.

 **.**

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* * *

 **notes!**

 **\- take three guesses to who our mystery boy is, and the first two don't count lol**

 **\- despite this scene being infamous in our fandom, Diana has had seventeen years focused on other things in her life - eventually, she'll come to realize just who exactly she was considering kidnapping, and will feel like an idiot.**

 **\- fun fact! abby's mistake happened because of several factors (the smallest being because of plot, haha), but most importantly because this has happened to me** _several times._ **the person who i base Abby off of has made similar mistakes (though none as severe), such as buying tickets for flights on the wrong dates, or mistaking one place for another, but it leaves room for hilarious stories afterwards.**

 **\- i'm so glad to hear that a lot of people are warming up to Diana! i hope these chapters show just what kind of person she is - please look forward to more!**

 **Thank you to everyone who's enjoyed Diana's journey up till now!**

 **\- SE**


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